Not Everything is Lost
by DimlyMad
Summary: No Man is made of iron. We all suffer and pay for our sins. But the fact that there are people out there, ready to keep our heads above the surface even if that means they'll have to drown, well, that's what keeps us swimming. - One Shot set right after Keppler's death.


_I know I have two stories to finish but this has been roaming free on my mind and it might get dangerous._

_This is set after Keppler's death, so after 7x15. Later on I'll publish a GSR friendly version because I feel I have the perfect ending._

_**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to CBS's C.S.I_

_Now, dear friend, by all means, proceed. *imaginary hat* (whenever I write this just picture Ellie Torres doing it)_

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The sight of his motionless body struck her with the force of a ray of lightening. She had prayed, immeasurable times for him to survive, to stay with her. Yet it all seemed in vain. All those promises she'd made before were far from empty words. She had planned to help him through thick and thin, and nothing was ever going to stop her from giving him justice. Nothing except his death.

Those promises, her hope and countless silent prayers now seemed to fade in front of her very own eyes, and she could feel nothing but pain and hopelessness. The tears she had held for as long as she held his hand came now pouring down her face. At that time, Catherine Willows knew nothing but that her colleague and friend was dead.

She was sure her knees were about to give out when a strong arm closed in around her fragile frame. Something, (or someone, Catherine could not be sure) made her turn, all the same pushing her to walk away. And so she did. The voices of the paramedics grew fainter as she went on, strong hands still holding her up straight.

There was no certainty in her mind of how long she had been walking nor where she now was. Eyes still on the ground, Catherine couldn't find the strength to be rational. The image of Keppler firing his gun to protect her was far too vivid in her mind still.

It wasn't until she was pushed into a sitting position and soft hands wiped the trail of tears off of her cheeks that Catherine became slightly aware of her surroundings. In front of her, between her knees, stood her friend and supervisor Gil Grissom with a look of concern shining on his blue iris. Making an effort to look around her, she discovered herself seated on Grissom's GMC.

As she made eye contact with Grissom again, Catherine was greeted with the same concerned gaze. She felt like she needed to say something. So, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Gil gave her a soft smile and as if knowing what she was going through, he replied with a short nod of his head, "Let's go home." Grissom then closed the passenger's seat door and made his way to the driver's seat.

Fat tears continued to fall down her cheeks, as Catherine, with trembling hands grasped for the seatbelt. By the time Grissom entered the car Catherine was trying and failing miserably to fasten her seatbelt on its lock. Her numb hands and blurred vision were proving to be uncooperative with the CSI to do such a mundane task. Grissom surveying the scene took the seatbelt from her hands, "There, let me.", and fastened it properly.

Turning the engine on and dialling a familiar number on his cell phone, Grissom took off from the crime scene.

Ever since their trip had started, Catherine directed her tears to the window on her right. She could hear Gil talking to someone over the phone but couldn't make sense of the words he said. From time to time, a familiar tone would come out of the speaker, yet, still Catherine couldn't pinpoint who Grissom was talking to.

As the journey went on, Catherine began to fall into a numb state of mind. Her tears had stopped falling, her face was turned to the road in front of her, and her eyes, unmoving, stared into nothingness.

After they passed an intersection, a warm hand would most of the time hold her cold one, which rested on top of her thigh. The warm hand would lay motionless on top of hers or its thumb would begin to draw soft patterns on her skin.

Even though Catherine could not feel it, time passed by and they finally arrived at a familiar looking building. Grissom turned off the engine, descended from the car and helped his partner off the vehicle.

She took no notice of the building or the elevators, and with Grissom's guidance Catherine entered the apartment. Hank came throttling happily through the stairs to greet its owner and his companion, only to return to its bed when Catherine made no signal to acknowledge its presence.

Sitting her down on his sofa and taking of her shoes, Grissom then made his way to the kitchen where he started to heat some water. When it reached the desired temperature, he poured the water into a large bowl, and, grabbing it plus two cotton towels, Gil headed towards the living-room.

After setting the bowl and towels both on top of the coffee table, he opened his field kit and started to register the blood evidence on Catherine's hands. When everything was properly documented Gil grabbed her hands and sank them on the bowl of warm water. He then took the towel, and soaking it in water, began to remove the dried blood off of Catherine's hands. Taking the dry towel, he dried her hands, and, using the now light red water, began to clean his own.

Grissom was heading towards the kitchen, towels and bowl in his hands, when a broken and small voice startled him, "He's dead, isn't he?" Gil, still startled to hear weakness in her voice, stammered for a moment or so before replying with the sincerity she admired him for, "Yes, honey, he's gone." And with that, he deposited the items on his hands on top of the coffee table, and took a seat by her side.

Her tears were now falling again, and her sobs shook her fragile body with such force, Grissom was afraid she might break. Bringing her hands to shield her face, Catherine rested both elbows at the end of her thighs, and like so, began to lose control over her emotions.

Had there been another person by her side, she would have fought harder to hide everything that was storming inside her. But at her side was none other than Gil Grissom: her friend and companion. The only one who never judged her, the one who stood by her even when she hurt him.

Resting a comforting hand on her thigh and an arm around her shoulders, Grissom pulled her towards him and placed a kiss on her temple.

As his lips left her skin, the hands she had over her face moved to embrace his neck, pulling him close. Catherine rested her chin on his shoulder and continued to cry while they embraced each other.

After a few moments, the arm he had around her shoulder stopped receiving violent jerks as Catherine's sobs subsided.

Turning her head so that her mouth was closer to his ear, she thanked him in a kind yet hoarse voice, whilst tightening the embrace momentarily.

Grissom could feel a smile starting to form on her lips, so, he too smiled, and, upon placing a kiss on the top of her head said, "That's what I'm here for."

For a few moments they stood there, letting reality sink in, when Catherine spoke, "Could I stay here tonight? " Breaking the embrace and eyeing Gil she continued, "I mean, I don't want the same thing that happened the night Eddie died to happen again, you know?" Grissom smiled softly and said, "It's all taken care of. I spoke with your mother earlier. She'll stay with Lindsay." She smiled then, and she needed to say no more, for everything he needed to know was understood by him in that smile.

Getting up from the couch, Gil began to gather the forgotten towels and the blood stained water. When Catherine started to get up and help him, he said, "No. You stay and I'll go. Besides you owe Hank an apology. He was very upset when you didn't notice him." The so common glow of teasing in his eyes was enough for her to try to relax and play along, "Fine! But just so you know, I prefer to boss _you _around."

With a triumphant smile, Gil made his way towards the kitchen, from where he could hear Catherine calling Hank and playing with it like she used to whenever she visited his place.

After the towels were thrown in the garbage and the bowl washed, he asked Catherine if she wanted something from the kitchen. She replied with a, "I wouldn't mind a screwdriver, but I don't suppose it would be a good idea..." Grissom smiled upon her reply and said, "And you suppose well! Tea it is."

By the time Gil appeared in the living-room with the tea, Hank was occupying the entirety of the couch and Catherine was nowhere in sight. Resting the steaming cups of tea on the table, he called for her. When her reply didn't come, he went looking for her. His first step was the bathroom door, where he knocked but no reply came. Gil then knocked on the guest bedroom door, and still no reply was given. At last, after checking the kitchen and the living-room again, he tried his bedroom, where he found her changing into one of his sweatshirts. The fact that he'd seen her bra made him go red at the cheeks, and mutter an apology.

Catherine raised an eyebrow, and, eyeing him comically, replied, "What? Nothing you haven't seen before, Gil." Grissom locked his gaze with hers and said in a serious note, "True. But just because I have seen it, doesn't give me the right to invade your privacy." The seriousness of his gaze broke her down and she started laughing. "What?" he eyed her with a confused expression. When no reply came from his partner he continued "How come you're using my clothes anyway? You keep some spares in the guest bedroom."

She neared the bedroom door where he stood, and, as Catherine replied, they started making their way to the living-room. "Well, that's easy. Your clothes are more comfy... Where are we on that tea?"

Together they reached the living-room and eyed the now sleeping dog on the sofa. Catherine chuckled, grabbed two pillows and put them down in front of the couch, next to each other. Taking the two cups of tea from the table, she sat down, followed by Grissom. They started to drink their tea in silence, the only background noise being the one of Hank snoring.

As time went by, the cups were being emptied, but still no one spoke. Grissom wanted her to talk to him, to let it all out, but he knew better than to push. It was when their cups were empty that Catherine broke the silence, "I really liked him... Mike I mean." Gil just stood still and kept silent, listening intently to her every word, "He was different. He had this _way_ of thinking that was different from everyone else's."She said, her eyes studying the empty cup on her hands, "He did remind me of you, sometimes..." At this, Grissom's eyebrow shot up, Catherine continued, "He was always very private about his life. Kinda like you..." Lifting her eyes from the cup, she locked her gaze with Grissom's and offered him a kind smile.

Silence settled itself once more as a single tear fell from Catherine's eye. Grissom lifted his hand, and, again, wiped the tear away from her cheek.

Getting up from the floor and daring a glance at the clock, Gil presented her with his hand, and said, "Come on, time for bed." She took his hand gladly and together they made their way to the hall, where both shared a good-night-wish and went on separate ways.

Grissom stood with his shoulder pressed against his bedroom door frame, until Catherine entered the guest bedroom and closed the door after a quick glance at him and a smile.

Both tossed and turned and lay awake, for reasons so diverse and yet not so different at all. Gil was having a difficult time to maintain a steady sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Catherine laying in a pool of blood, her blue eyes staring at the ceiling of the motel room. It was after having wakened up from one of those sights that he felt soft footsteps near his bedroom door. Looking up, he saw the shape of Catherine Willows in one of his baggy sweatshirts and immediately turned his bedside lamp on.

The sight of her dishevelled strawberry blonde hair and bloodshot eyes was disconcerting; however it was nothing he wasn't already used to.

"What happened", he asked, his worried expression deepened by the dim light. She stood silent for a moment and then said in a hoarse voice, "Sorry... Didn't mean to wake you up..." Gil waited a moment or so and seeing she wasn't going to say anything he decided to push on, "Catherine", said he, in a warning voice. And again silence followed his words.

Catherine then took a shaking breath and answered, her voice thick from the tears, "He saved me. He saved me and he died, Gil." At this, Gil's only response was to scoot over to the middle of the bed. Hesitantly, Catherine laid down where Grissom had been before and facing him, put her arm around his waist and her ear near his heart. Grissom covered her body with the bed covers and kissing the top of her head, he whispered, "I'll be forever grateful that he did."

The rest of the night went on and morning came, bringing sunshine and a warm glow to Grissom's bedroom. By then a call from the Undersheriff announcing that Catherine needed to make a statement, had woken them both up. At that time, Gil could be found in his kitchen making some coffee, while Catherine showered and changed into a pair of fresh clothes. Upon her arrival at the kitchen they drank their coffee and comfortably talked about nothing and everything. When the time came, Catherine put on her shoes, grabbed her purse and made her way to the door, Grissom following right behind. He then opened the door for her and they both bid their good-byes. Before going out, she smiled and hugged him, and in that hug, Catherine knew everything was going to be alright. As she turned towards the door, a feeling flashed before her eyes and ran through her whole body. Turning to face Grissom once again, she put her arms around his neck, whispered, "Thank you" in his ear, and closed the distance between them. Even though their kiss was soft and gentle, the mere feeling of his lips upon hers sent shivers down her spine and fireworks shining under her eyelids. She then let go of him, walked towards the door in a confident stride and, looking back, said in a teasing manner, "Oh, and by the way, _you_ can invade my privacy whenever you want."

~0~

_We rise and we fall. We hurt and we laugh. We live and we die. Not because we're good or bad. But because that's life._

~0~

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_And as Catherine once said: "Thank you! Good night!"_


End file.
